


grounded in belonging

by brattyb



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Some angst, Spideypool - Freeform, Spideypool Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:59:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6098223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brattyb/pseuds/brattyb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter still didn’t feel the urge to complicate things with a child. He didn’t even think about the possibility. Why should he? Their life seemed happy as could be. He was totally content.</p><p>So of course he was surprised and a bit taken back when Wade, in the middle of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, decided to say, “I think we should have a baby.”</p><p>Read as: a mini-series in which Peter and Wade are married, discuss the idea of children and the subsequent events that follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. deep psychological fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter still didn’t feel the urge to complicate things with a child. He didn’t even think about the possibility. Why should he? Their life seemed happy as could be. He was totally content.
> 
> So of course he was surprised and a bit taken back when Wade, in the middle of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, decided to say, “I think we should have a baby.”

Peter didn’t believe in the ‘honeymoon phase’ of a newlywed relationship.

He heard people talk about it constantly, claiming the happy period lasted somewhere around six months to a year after the wedding. It typically ended with a lull in the marriage, and these same people claimed the old bride and groom, eager for more sparks and excitement in their shared life, would then try for a baby.

It was all this talk that made Peter roll his eyes, because he did not feel like he had ever had a ‘honeymoon phase’ with his husband, or the subsequent lull. As a matter of fact, their relationship kept steady all throughout, from hesitant partners, to friends, to boyfriends, to fiancés, to husbands. And even after two years into the marriage, far past any ‘phase,’ filled with laughter, routine and a cozy, shared space, Peter still didn’t feel the urge to complicate things with a child. He didn’t even think about the possibility. Why should he? Their life seemed happy as could be. He was totally content.

So of course he was surprised and a bit taken back when Wade, in the middle of _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ , decided to say, “I think we should have a baby.”

It took several minutes and an entire glass of Coca-Cola to get the taco shell removed from Peter’s esophagus.

Wade looked at him quizzically, but his hand was rubbing his poor husband’s back soothingly as Peter stared at him, confused and flushed. “A baby? What? Where is this coming from?”

Wade shrugged, as if he had suggested they get a new coffee table. “I don’t know, maybe it’s some deep psychological fear that I’ll lose you unless I metaphorically impregnate you and tie you down forever. But it’s most likely just because I really care about you, and you’re the only thing that’s brought stability to my life, and I’ve come to realize that I actually like it. Stability, that is. And you. And so… you know, a baby would bring on more stability. More routine. More you. More you and me. More… What was the question again?”

Peter blinked at Wade, and the irony was not lost on him when, in the background, Ferris’s teacher echoed his famous line: _“Bueller… Bueller… Bueller.”_

“I… don’t know what to say,” Peter finally decided.

Wade nodded, leaning back into the couch to see the screen. “Well, no pressure. Just a thought. Something to look forward to. To talk about. It’s all cool.”

And Peter could tell Wade really meant it. He was absolutely calm over the idea of having a baby, completely fine with Peter being lost on the subject, and was totally okay with going back to tacos and an ‘80’s flick. But as they stared at the screen in silence, the thought wouldn’t leave Peter alone.

“Are you unhappy with our marriage?” He blurted out.

Wade looked over with wide eyes. “What? Why the hell would you think that?”

“Because you want a fucking baby! That means we’ve exited the honeymoon phase, doesn’t it? We’re looking for the ‘next step.’ You want to spark up our relationship again with something new.” Peter was getting more and more incredulous with each passing word that slipped from his pink lips. Wade, in the mean time, was desperately trying to cut him off, but for once, the young superhero wouldn’t have it. “I don’t understand. We just tried a new position! I thought things were going really well. What the _fuck_ , man?”

There was a long silence between them, with Wade looking at Peter in surprise and Peter looking at Wade like he was about to murder the immortal.

“Okay,” the mercenary dragged out, “Whoa. How about we take a beat and calm down? Because I’m lost; also very turned on by the weird role reversal that’s happening right now. For once, I’m not the crazy one.”

“I’m not being crazy!” Peter huffed. “You’re Wade fucking Wilson. You’re Deadpool! Why would you want a child?”

“Hey, it’s a thing! I have a child in a different universe and there’s plenty of fan art and fanfiction about it, thank you very much." 

Peter didn’t have the patience for Wade’s insistent belief that they were characters in comic books and movies. He didn’t have it in him to amuse any ludicrous ideas, and that included Wade actually, really, truly wanting a baby.

“Alright, if you’re so serious about it, then let’s fucking talk about it.” Peter demanded. Picking up the remote, he turned off the television just as Cameron was sitting in his father’s car, contemplating life. Wade let out a small protest, but when Peter turned his body towards his husband, the Merc With the Mouth realized this was serious. So he sighed and turned to face Peter as well.

“Okay. Let’s talk about it.”

“Great. How about we start with the fact that you didn’t want to marry me because you were afraid I’d be targeted by your enemies? And it took months of me proving that I could hold my own in fights across town for you to finally let up on the idea, as if I had never been in a fight before, as if I’m not Spider-Man.”

Wade paused. “What about it?" 

“A child, Wade? A helpless, little baby? What happens when your enemies, or even mine, find out we have a child? Then what? How are you going to feel about that?” Peter was talking at an incredibly fast pace, arms flinging about for emphasis, his hair flopping into his eyes. He was cute when he was riled up like this and normally, Wade would tell him. But he bit his tongue – for once – because he realized if he didn’t, he’d lose the argument, talk, whatever was happening right now. And he really wanted to win this one.

“Hey, you were right. You could hold your own. You showed me it was stupid to let that fear get in the way of having a life with you and now I’m really happy. And nothing bad has happened – knock on wood.” Wade lightly tapped on his crotch. “And that child would have two kick-ass dads holding their own. I don’t know, I guess I have confidence in us as a team. We wouldn’t let anything happen to that little critter." 

The silence returned and the two played a brief staring contest before Peter, again, started up.

“Okay. Well, what about this lifestyle? The constant missions where you practically return in smithereens? The weapons tossed in every corner? The late nights out and sleeping in way past noon? None of that would fly with a kid.”

Wade shrugged, glancing around the apartment at the katanas, the guns, the series of blades and weaponry scattered about. “I barely go on missions anymore. People don’t really hire the mercenary who’s been seen hanging around the almighty Avengers. They think I’ve gone soft and you know what? I don’t really give a shit. I mean, the occasional job is great and it really gets my engines going, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t need it all that much anymore. Not with you in my life now. I can clean up pretty easy and to be honest, I’m really lookin’ forward to it.”

Peter inhaled sharply, then let out a long exhale.

Wade was expecting him to admit defeat, and was excited to brag about his first official ‘win’ in their relationship. But after a moment, the younger one perked up again. “We live in a one bedroom apartment in a shit neighborhood. This is hardly the place to raise a kid.”

A soft smile appeared on the merc’s scarred face, softening his features. “Now that, I agree with. Which is why the jobs I _have_ been taking have been pretty intense, but lucrative. I actually opened a fucking savings account, like I’m a regular ol’ adult or some shit. But man, you should have seen the bank teller’s face when I walked in bleeding out my fucking ass, with a seventy thousand dollar check. I mean, I thought he was going to have a goddamn heart—“

“You’ve been _saving_ for a new place?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Wade suddenly looked sheepish and Peter mentally cursed himself for feeling his stomach knot with desire. “You just always talked about getting a place closer to Stark on the nice side of town, and wanting your own space for your science shit and – I don’t know. I wanted to give that to you.”

For the next five minutes, Peter and Wade sat facing one another on the couch, with Peter occasionally opening his mouth to say something, then closing it and falling back into silence. Wade had come up with at least a hundred jokes about blowjobs in that time and was about to burst when his husband finally, _finally_ seemed to give in.

“You really want a baby.”

“I mean, yeah. I do.” Then Wade cocked his head to the side and looked at Peter, really looked at Peter, and asked, “But do you?”

It was as if the question had never come up before. Peter had been so insistent on this idea that happiness wasn’t grounded in a typical family, because he hadn’t had one and he was, at this point, pretty fucking happy. And he had always thought that the stereotypical lifestyle of a nice place in a better borough, with little kids running around was beyond him and his husband. They lived their lives binging on fast food, walking into their apartment suited up at three in the morning through the window, and barely sleeping. It seemed like there was just no room for even the mere question of a having a child.

But now it was sitting before Peter in his living room, demanding to be thought and imagined whole-heartedly. He had to finally confront the idea that, yes, he could have that. He could have a family. He could live that lifestyle, if he wanted.

And it took a long moment, but eventually he realized that he _did_ want it. He wanted it so badly. He had wanted it desperately, ever since he was kid and he was left to his aunt and uncle, and he missed his parents. He wanted it when Uncle Ben died. He clung to it with everything he had when it came to Aunt May and now Wade. It dawned on Peter that really, the thing he truly loved, cared for and desired deeply all his life was exactly what Wade had suggested: family.

“Yes. I do. I really do.” Peter couldn’t help but match Wade’s growing smile. And he laughed, because he couldn’t believe this is how his Friday night had unfolded. And he couldn’t believe what was to come. “I really do want a baby.”

“Then we’re going to have a fucking baby,” Wade stated excitedly. All thoughts of bragging about his apparent ‘win’ had been forgotten upon this realization, and as the words escaped the mercenary, his eyes grew wide. “ _Our_ fucking baby. _Our_ child. _Ours_.”

“Yeah, ours.” Peter nodded, chuckling in agreed astonishment.

Wade couldn’t keep himself contained any longer, having sat at a distance for the entirety of his husband’s meltdown. He leaned forward, his larger body overtaking Peter’s as he closed the gap between them and laid them out on their couch. Their kisses were messy, with both of them still smiling too wide to care. But eventually, a series of pecks were shared that slowly turning into a deep, long kisses, Peter wrapping his arms around Wade’s neck to bring him in closer.

Of course, he did so only to have Wade pull back and smirk. “Does this mean we’re _trying_?” 

Peter rolled his eyes, grinning. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“No, yeah, we’re trying. We’re also going to be one of those couples that say _we’re_ pregnant. And everyone will hate us. It’s been decided.”

“Oh god, just shut up, please.” Peter laughed before pulling Wade in by the collar of his t-shirt and locking lips again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really just a mess, but I got inspired by @ribkadory on tumblr and her spideypool family drawings. none of this was meant to see the light of day, but here we are... oops?
> 
> hope you like it, thx for reading!


	2. what's mine is yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were constantly tired, but always smiling.
> 
> Always smiling until, of course, Peter got the adoption applications in the mail and stared at them for a good hour. The smile faded.

Peter and Wade’s routine quickly changed after their talk.

Previously, their nights had been spent suiting up to wander New York in search of petty crimes. The time between Avengers missions drove Peter crazy; he always glanced toward his suit longingly, messed with his web-shooters to pass the time, or sewed up small holes in his mask during these long gaps to help fill the void. But he needed to occasionally catch a picture of himself for work and he certainly couldn’t do it at Stark Tower during a meeting. So it became routine for him and Wade to go out together, swinging from rooftop to rooftop while chatting about nonsense, until they found someone doing something somewhere. While other couples caught up over dinner and _The Bachelor_ , Peter and Wade seemed to do it over an unconscious mugger lying at their feet.

This still happened, but after crawling into their apartment through the window by the fire escape, they usually had taken to their bed almost immediately. Now they found themselves at the kitchen table, a series of books before them with titles like: _Adoption for Dummies_ , _1,001 Baby Names_ , and _In Vitro: Is It For You_? Peter would occasionally glance up late in the night to see Wade with his brow furrowed, highlighter in mouth, staring intently at a page. It always made the dark haired superhero smile.

Peter always woke early on weekdays to either go to class or send in a new series of photos to the newspaper. But now even Wade shuffled about in the early hours after little sleep, sharing coffee over that crowded kitchen table. When Peter was out, Wade would look over their finances. During Peter’s lunch, they’d meet their real estate agent for showings. And then the day would fade into night, repeating itself like the last.

They were constantly tired, but always smiling.

Always smiling until, of course, Peter got the adoption applications in the mail and stared at them for a good hour. The smile faded.

“You’re going cross-eyed. Give me those,” Wade said from across the room. Peter was on the verge of protesting, but suddenly the papers were snatched from him via webbing. 

He let out a soft growl. “What did I say about using my web-shooters?” 

“Hey, we’re married. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours. That sentiment isn’t just reserved to shelter and dicks,” Wade responded as his light blue eyes scanned over the page. Peter huffed in response, but after a beat, Wade looked up in confusion. “Did you forget my birthday?”

“Huh? No, it’s the middle of November. Your birthday isn’t until February.”

“Aw, you do remember! That’s so cute,” Wade cooed. Peter stared at him, obviously lost, and it took a moment but finally Wade continued. “Oh, right. Well, this thing is just asking for our information. I don’t get why you’re looking at it like how I look at your Biology textbooks.”

Peter sighed and got up from the table, snatching the papers back from his husband before plopping down beside him on the couch. His eyes looked over the sheet and sure enough, each box seemed straightforward. _Name, birth date, social security, address…_

His eyes lingered on one part of it though and he pointed it out to Wade: _occupation_. 

“I mean, I don’t want to lie to someone who’s giving us their baby. So what are we supposed to put? Vigilante and mercenary? Hero and anti-hero?” 

Wade blinked at him. “You’re also a student and a photographer." 

“Those aren’t much better,” Peter groaned. “And what about you? You don’t have a day job. And – God, I don’t know! Some part of me feels like even if we were fucking neurosurgeons in the day, I’d still feel guilty for letting someone give us their baby without letting them know what we do at night and on the side. Who we really are.”

Wade nodded slowly and seemed to be having some kind of internal battle, though that wasn’t exactly a new look for him. He twisted his mouth to the side thoughtfully, and finally shrugged sheepishly. “But they’re not giving us _their_ baby. It’d be our baby. There’s a reason it’s called a closed-adoption.”

Peter frowned. “I know. But still. No one considers adoption thinking they’re handing off a child to people like us. They do it to give the kid a better life. And that person might not think _this_ is a better life.”

“That person would be stupid,” Wade quickly retorted, making his husband’s frown flip for a brief second. But those pink lips fell again just a moment after.

“I want to be honest, but we can’t reveal ourselves to every person who may reject us.” Peter sighed, looking back down at the paper sadly. “I don’t know what to do.”

Wade watched as Peter’s dark hair slowly fell into his doe eyes. He hated seeing his husband this down and he hated this feeling, of seeming so close and totally invested, but really having nothing to show for it. And usually when Wade felt this emotional, he had some joke ready, or some mission to distract him. But suddenly he was out of words and the thirst to kill wasn’t there. Nothing could shake this.

His eyes wandered away from Peter in a desperate attempt to give his heart a momentary break from the ache. But then the pile of books on the table caught his eye and he quickly picked up the web-shooter in his lap.

He hadn’t thought the plan through. Peter looked up when Wade out a small ‘ _oof,’_ the webbing having pulled a book back to the couch too quickly and forcibly, hitting him in the head straight-on. 

Peter glared and snatched both the shooter and the book away, but his eyes looked down at the white cover. The bolded title stared up at him: _In Vitro: Is It For You?_

“In vitro fertilization?” His tone suggested that he wasn’t thrilled.

But Wade was excited enough for them both. “Yeah! I know you said we should adopt because there are plenty of kids out there who need homes, and yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah. But this is perfect for us! The egg donor would be completely anonymous; probably some college girl who wanted to go to Mexico for Spring Break, and really wasn’t attached to her stash. We’d just have to find someone we trust, who’d be down to do the dirty work. And it’d be _our_ baby, all ours.” 

“But you can’t – I mean, you’re not –“

Wade’s smile grew. “That’s the best part. It’d be your sperm. Our baby would be part you! We’d have a Spider-Baby. That’s the coolest kind of baby to have!” 

Peter didn’t look sold. He glanced back down at the book in his hand, running his thumb along the spine with his frown still etched into his features. “That feels wrong.” 

Wade paused for a second, taken back by the reaction he was receiving. He had been entirely amped on the idea and thought it’d get Peter equally as ecstatic again, considering their limiting situation. He felt momentarily defeated, unsure of why having a baby, _their_ baby, this way or any way would be wrong. It took one of the voices in his head to remind him who he was married to: sensitive Spider-Man, who always thought of others before himself, always fighting for his loved ones, going through each day for someone else. Peter didn’t want to do in vitro, because he didn’t want Wade to feel left out.

Suddenly the mercenary was crouching on the floor between Peter and the coffee table, looking up at the younger boy earnestly. “Alright, here’s the thing, baby boy. I’m fucking crazy. I am a genetic bomb – and not the good kind. The world doesn’t want me to procreate and I wouldn’t want to, even if I could. My mom had cancer. My dad had some mental issues. They passed that onto me and I don’t want to pass this shit on to anyone.” 

“Wade –“ Peter’s voice was soft but it cracked, like he was about to cry.

But Wade continued.

“No, listen. I’m serious. This isn’t just some self-hating bullshit. There’s a reason why I spent all those nights following you around, trying to get you to be my friend. And I’m so lucky that you wanted more. Because God, you’re just… You’re so good. You’re brave, strong, understanding, smart and so many other great things. And if I got to be the dad of someone with even _half_ those qualities – I mean, I don’t think I could ever be happier. That would be it for me. So this isn’t about me not liking me. It’s about how much I love you. And how having another you in my life would be the absolute best thing I could ever hope for.”

Peter didn’t want to cry, because he knew Wade would just use it as ammo later. He didn’t want to cry, because he wasn’t really that sad either. But no matter how hard he bit the inside of his cheek or dug his nails into his palm, the tears just wouldn’t subside. 

None of it was new information, either. These were confessions that had been whispered over rooftops, in bed, between kisses on the couch over the years. But somehow Peter was feeling overwhelmed with this knowledge as it related to a kid, _their_ kid. Somehow it just confirmed everything Wade had told him throughout their relationship. It kicked away any ruminating doubts Peter could have had hiding within him. 

“God, you’ve been so mushy lately,” he grumbled, attempting to deter the attention away from the tear that had slipped down his cheek. But Wade just laughed, grabbing the hand Peter had used to wipe it away. 

“I’m always mushy. You just don’t seem to appreciate my commentary on your ass as much as my commentary on your character. But, uh, speaking of that ass –" 

Peter laughed but quickly cut Wade off, tugging on his hand to have their lips to meet.

Wade pulled away, smirking, always breaking kisses to talk. “So you _are_ thinking what I’m thinking then? About your ass?” He paused for a brief second, still sniggering. “About how it’s all mine tonight?” 

“Oh my god, Wade,” Peter half-groaned, half-laughed, shoving his husband away. His hands dropped against the book that had been sitting in his lap, completely forgotten until then.

Both men paused, glancing at the cover for a long moment before looking at each other. Wade smiled patiently, calmly, sweetly. “So?” 

And Peter nodded, returning that smile, feeling a weight off his chest. “So… in vitro, it is.”

He rolled his eyes when Wade pumped a fist into air in celebration. “Fuck yes! Spider-Baby, here we come!” And then he laughed when Wade finished the thought: “Literally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is a third person omniscient narrator, with a bias towards Peter. it's been decided. what hasn't been decided is how often I'll be updating. probably with larger gaps from here on out. but not too large, I promise!
> 
> thx for all the comments & kudos, guys! it's so nice and rly gets me going. :'-)


	3. like sonny and cher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But things got scary sometimes, even for Peter who had taken on his fair share of scary things. Like when their doctor first gave Peter and Wade a website filled with egg donor profiles; Peter had stared at each page very carefully.

It was months of doctor appointments, lists of acquaintances for the surrogate, and possible baby names.

When everything was moving fast around him, Peter would pause and wonder what him and Wade ever talked about beforehand. He relived conversations about Wade’s favorite ‘90’s hits. He remembered gossiping about mutants and superheroes, as if they were simply shared classmates. He could recall laughing at jokes and antics others would label ‘immature.’ And all of those things still interweaved, as Wade had never had a one-track mind. But it seemed the names, doctors, and friends had overtaken most of their lives.

Peter had to remind himself quite a bit that they were working towards something big. He had to tell himself that all this was going somewhere. He had to actively remember to have hope that it would all work out.

But things got scary sometimes, even for Peter who had taken on his fair share of scary things. Like when their doctor first gave Peter and Wade a website filled with egg donor profiles; Peter had stared at each page very carefully.

“No history of diabetes in her family, _and_ she’s hot?” Wade would comment over his husband’s shoulder, mouth full of some snack. “I’d put that one in the _‘yes’_ pile. Which I was thinking could also be called our _‘if we ever had a three-way’_ pile.”

Peter was too engrossed to shoot Wade a disgusted and annoyed glance.

The problem was, for every ‘hot and healthy’ girl Wade saw, Peter simply saw a stranger. Her looks or her medical history didn’t really help him. It didn’t make this easier. Knowing her birth date or whether or not a parent had arthritis didn’t make her more human. Peter needed more.

It wasn’t even that Peter believed if a girl listened to The Magnetic Fields and particularly liked _Star Wars_ , she would somehow make a better genetic match for him and his husband. But it eased the anxiety in the pit of Peter’s stomach as he went through every online profile on every social media platform he could find, learning more and more about each donor. It was calming to see the lives these girls led in a series of posts and pictures, all of them mostly happy and healthy.

On a warm Saturday night, Peter handed off a printed version of the winner’s profile to Wade.

“Leila Manning,” he immediately read aloud from the paper.

Peter quickly cut him off, eagerly sitting beside him. “She graduated three years ago from a state university with a degree in Communications. She’s moving to Chicago; I’d bet hard money she’s donating her eggs to do so. She’s also happily engaged and works at a law firm as an office administrator.” 

Wade’s blue eyes scanned every word on the two-page résumé with his brow furrowed, but eventually looked up at his husband. A teasing grin appeared. “None of that is on here, you fucking creep.” 

“I was curious,” Peter shot back weakly. He grabbed the papers from Wade defensively and mulled them over, as if he didn’t have it all memorized.

“You wanted to make sure she was boring,” Wade accused, his voice indicating that he was clearly amused his husband would go to such extreme lengths. Peter gaped at him.

“No! I just wanted to make sure she was a _safe_ choice,” Peter said, looking at the photograph of a dark brown-haired girl with blue eyes and a nice smile. Her social media presence came rushing back to him – her older photos with sorority sisters, her newer photos with the white puppy her and her fiancé had just adopted. He suddenly remembered the relief he felt when looking through each updated status, the most exciting one being about a concert she attended with her younger sister. He felt particularly guilty recalling the excitement in his chest when she happily posted about her move to the windy city.

Peter could feel Wade’s gaze boring holes in him and after a beat, he gave in, finally returning his husband’s stare with his hands in the air.

“Okay, fine, yes! I wanted her to be a little boring. I wanted the girl who blends in with the crowd. And yes, I love fact that she’s leaving New York. I love that she’s engaged, living her typical lifestyle that will eventually be far, far away from us. It’s a relief. But that doesn’t make me a bad person! So what if I wanted to ensure the safety of our future child? So what if I was worried that somehow it’d leak to the public that Spider-Man and Deadpool had a baby through in vitro, and every woman who had ever donated an egg in the state would go searching to see if it was hers? So what if I decided that Leila Manning was the type of girl who wouldn’t care if it were hers? _So what_?”

Peter didn’t realize he was practically shouting until he stopped his babbling and the silence washed over their apartment. Wade’s smile was practically ear-to-ear. 

The brown-haired hero narrowed his eyes, but sunk shamefully in his spot. “Oh, shut up.”

“For once, I didn’t say anything,” Wade laughed. Despite this, Peter continued to glare. “I just think it’s cute.” 

The glare twisted into something of confusion then. What was cute about his constantly anxiety over every major decision? The younger father-to-be felt like he had dissolved into a worrisome mess since they decided to have a child, and it was particularly disturbing to Peter that _Wade_ was the one who was holding it together. But Wade pushed on, seeing his spouse’s furrowed brow. “It is! It’s cute that you’re worried and it’s cute that you’ve thought everything through. I knew you would, because you’re just a fucking nerd like that. You got to do all your homework. And I love that about you. You’re going to be a great dad.”

Peter blinked, the thought running through his head. On one hand, he didn’t appreciate being called a nerd. But on the other, he hadn’t thought that his intense need to research and plan accordingly (which was _not_ nerdy, just practical) was a desirable trait. After a brief pause, Peter elbowed Wade in the ribs. 

“Ow! What was that for? I said you were going to be a great dad!” He whined, rubbing at the sore spot.

“For calling me a nerd, you jackass,” Peter stated sternly, but his facial features softened a moment later. “But thank you. You’re going to be a pretty great dad, too. I mean you’ve been so calm through all this. It’s been exactly what I’ve needed. _You’ve_ always been exactly what I’ve needed.”

“What can I say, Spidey? We make a good team,” the anti-hero grinned, leaning more towards his husband, who returned the smile and cuddled in close. They sat in peaceful silence, which Peter had thought was a brief moment to recollect on Wade’s comment in mutual agreement. But apparently, Wade wasn’t on the same page. He shared his thoughts openly and unabashedly. “We’re like Sonny and Cher. Paul McCartney and John Lennon. Oh, oh, Bonnie and Clyde. Romeo and Juliet. The country girl and city boy from Journey’s, ‘Don’t Stop Believing.’”

“None of those are good examples,” Peter quickly responded.

“You’re the country girl.” Wade was clearly on a roll, ignoring Peter’s comment completely.

“They’re not even referred to as a couple in the song.” 

“ _Took the midnight train, goin’ anywhere_ …” 

“Oh, my God.” Peter finally laughed, lightly whacking Wade in the chest. The mercenary grinned, suddenly clasping the younger boy’s wrist and pulling him toward Wade’ larger body, so that Peter was placed half-hazard on his lap. He wanted to protest against the movement, always fighting Wade because silly arguments had become their way of flirting. But it was too nice to be so close. Instead, he positioned himself so that he could comfortably lay against Wade’s shoulder with a happy hum. 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” The bass of Wade’s voice vibrated against Peter after a moment. The serious tone it took made him nervous. He looked up, his wide doe eyes curious.

“Of course. You can ask me anything,” Peter complied.

Wade grabbed the paper that had been left on the opposite end of the couch and lifted it up so that both men could look at the smiling girl gazing back at them. He glanced to and fro, between Peter and Leila, Leila and Peter, again and again. And then finally, he asked, “Did you pick someone who could honestly be mistaken as your long, lost sibling on purpose?”

Peter groaned. “What? No! That’s disgusting, dude. She’s going to be our egg donor.”

“Are you sure?” Wade was staring intently at the photograph then, bringing it closer to his bright blue eyes. They squinted at the page. “Because I swear to God, I’m feeling things, Petey. And it’s ‘cause this chick is you in a wig. And that is honestly, like, a wet dream of mine.”

“You’re disturbed.”

“Hey, don’t kink-shame me. I just have a type,” Wade shrugged. Peter grabbed the paper back, tossing it on the coffee table in a huff. But his husband just laughed, pulling him back in by the waist and bringing their lips together for a long, sweet moment. When he leaned back against the couch, leaving the hero craving more, Wade smirked. “Y’know, I was joking about that three-way before, but now—“

“Seriously? Shut up.” Peter growled, before locking their lips again to ensure just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you guys as excited as I am for this baby? because, man, let me tell you, do I have ~things~ planned.
> 
> P.S. your comments make me want to cry tears of joy. pls never stop. but also thank you for reading and the kudos and overall support from any and everyone! y'all are the actual best. :''-)


	4. group bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All that was left was finding the surrogate. 
> 
> Somehow, though, that was proving to be an even more daunting task than Peter had previously imagined.

**From: Wade Wilson, 12:03 PM  
** _I asked the barista if she was into the idea of having my baby_  

**From: Wade Wilson, 12:03 PM**  
_She called her manager and now I have to find a new coffee place_  
  
**From: Wade Wilson, 12:03 PM**  
_Anyway, she was the only one on my list of trustworthy female acquaintances_  
  
**From: Wade Wilson, 12:04 PM**  
_Now what?_  

Peter sighed at his phone screen before tucking it back into his pocket. They had gotten everything in order as it related to the embryos. After picking the egg donor, Peter had had the fortunate experience of sitting in a cramped room with outdated porn magazines and a cup. But after that nightmare passed, and after he finally got Wade to stop asking him what he had thought about in ‘the magical moment of orgasm,’ things went smoothly. All that was left was finding the surrogate. 

Somehow, though, that was proving to be an even more daunting task than Peter had previously imagined.

There was a series of bumps in the road, the biggest one being that the happy couple didn’t seem to have a lot of friends between them. And that kiddie pool got smaller, as it filtered out all those who did not have uteruses. When Peter and Wade finally looked down at the list they had compiled, it was only a third of a page, and most of them were either Peter’s ex-girlfriends or coworkers who couldn’t really do their jobs while pregnant.

It’d been weeks of this and Peter was quickly losing hope. The young hero was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he wasn’t even listening to Tony’s new invention for the team, a topic that would usually have Peter on the edge of his seat.

“What’s going on, Parker?” A voice whispered from beside him.

He looked up from the spot on the large table he had chosen to zone out on. Fiona, Tony’s assistant, was staring at him with a concerned expression on her face. She was just a few years older than Peter, but that was closer to his age than any of the Avengers. Plus, she wasn’t filthy rich, an ex-KGB spy, or a God. So naturally Peter related to her a little more. They had taken a liking to one another and over the years, had become decent friends. 

“Nothing,” he grumbled in response, glancing to see if Tony was about to scold them for interrupting. “Just some messages from Wade.” 

Fiona had heard all about the Merc With a Mouth. She hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet, since he had gotten himself banned from Stark Tower (a miscommunication over a new invention, Wade claimed, yet Tony didn’t seem to think the destruction of his hard work was a gray area). But through annoyed Avengers and a very bias Peter, she had heard both the good and the bad. Sometimes, Peter wondered how she imagined Wade or what she thought overall. This was rare, though, as Peter didn’t typically talk about his personal life at work.

“Trouble in paradise?” Fiona asked, a smirk on her lips.

“Not exactly,” Peter replied, unsure of what to say.

Thankfully the small room was easily disturbed by the side conversation, and Tony stopped his presentation. He looked over at Fiona and Peter. “I’m sorry, am I boring you?” 

“Yes,” Natasha replied from across the table. Her expression was blank, but Clint grinned beside her.

“Peter’s got trouble at home,” Fiona explained with a teasing smile.

He could feel the pink rising in his cheeks as everyone turned their eyes on him. His own brown doe eyes darted to the redhead beside him, but his glare only made her more amused. 

“What did Wilson do?” Bruce asked. Peter noted the tone: hesitant in respect to Peter, but weary because Wade was Wade after all. It was how most of the Avengers treated their youngest teammate’s questionable relationship in a nutshell.

“Nothing,” Peter groaned. This wasn’t exactly the way he imagined the group bonding, but it seemed everyone was interested, waiting patiently for him to share. It reminded him of an awkward five minutes two years ago, when he announced he was getting married to the mercenary. “It’s not like that. We’re just kind of in the middle of something. We’re, uh… We’re having a baby.” 

The AC was the only noise cutting through thick silence. Peter briefly considered jumping out the window, despite being thirty-some odd floors up and not having his web-shooters on him.

“You’re having a kid,” Tony parroted back, unable to mask his surprise. Peter nodded. “With Deadpool?”

“Cut it out, Stark,” Steve said evenly, before smiling at Peter from the other end of the table. “Congratulations, son. That’s great.”

“Thank you,” he replied uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. If he was being honest, Captain America still intimidated him, even after years on the team. And it wasn’t every day the iconic man was bestowing some kind of honor on Peter for the activities of his day-to-day life. He felt like he was lying to the purest man on Earth and suddenly found himself sharing too much information in an effort to redeem himself. “I mean, we’re doing IVF. And we don’t have a surrogate. And we can’t find one, so no congratulations are really in order. At least, not yet… Or, you know, maybe ever. But _anyway_ , can we move on? Stark, you were saying something about in-combat communications?”

“That was at the beginning of my presentation, Pete, but it’s nice to know you were listening at some point,” Tony responded. Peter shrunk in his seat and the self-proclaimed genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist carried on.

If anyone seemed to have an opinion or a lingering thought about Peter’s situation, they masked it well. The horror and embarrassment passed for the most part and when the meeting finally ended, the young hero grabbed his hoodie and rushed to leave.

He thought he was out of the woods until Fiona came up to him as he awaited the elevator. Still feeling slightly flustered over the whole ordeal, he mentally cursed Stark Tower for having more floors than totally necessary. Was this place even under state regulations?

“Hey,” she said, a coy smile on her lips, her hands nervously grasping at the clipboard she constantly held. It was probably filled with Tony’s ridiculous demands. Peter had once heard him ask Fiona to write notes on a project he was working on in his lab; all in a day’s work, until he demanded she not set a foot _within_ his lab. She was to stay upstairs and take notes from the living room for some unknown reason. Learning early on not to question her boss, she did just that. “I just wanted to say sorry. I didn’t know. If I did, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“I know,” Peter smiled at her reassuringly, because it was true. Peter had always had a deep intuition, only further emphasized by his spider-sense, and Fiona had never posed as a threat. He believed her. “Don’t sweat it.”

He thought she’d leave it at that, turn on her heeled shoes and go back to tending to Tony. But she stayed. He glanced back at her expectedly and she let out a nervous laugh. “God, you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

He blinked at her.

“But I wanted to let you know, if you still need a surrogate…” She seemed to be struggling for the words, but Peter could tell where she was going. It made his heart race. He wanted to say ‘yes’ immediately, wanted to text Wade, wanted to cry, laugh, jump for joy. But he stayed perfectly still until she finally finished. “I want to help. I don’t think I’ll ever have kids myself with my lifestyle, but it’s an experience I think is important, and you deserve a happy family.” 

The elevator rang and the door swung open, but Peter still stayed put. He didn’t know what to say or do, everything bubbling within him, though he noticed it was mostly excitement. Eventually, what fell from pink lips was simply, “Are you fucking with me?” 

Pure eloquence for such a warm, touching moment.

Fiona laughed, though. “No! I’m serious. I spent the rest of the meeting taking horrible notes and thinking it over. Stark would understand; I’d still have my job. You need someone who’s trustworthy and I’m already legally bound to keep your identity a secret. And I like to think we’re friends. Unless you don’t, in which case, _screw you_. But I’d still want to help, because I think you’re a good guy who deserves this, and I want the experience without the whole commitment to a child for eighteen years. So… win, win.” 

Peter let out a breathy laugh of surprise before pulling the young woman in for a tight hug. She was obviously surprised by the gesture, but giggled and returned the embrace. When Peter finally let go, he was still grinning from ear-to-ear. “You’re – I mean, that’s – you’re the best. I don’t even know what to say. I mean, obviously, thank you. But if this all goes through, I just want you to know that everything will be covered; anything you need, we’ve got it for you. And there will obviously be compensation. And –“

“Peter, that’s not—“ 

“I need to tell Wade,” he continued, clearly swimming in his own thoughts, far too happy to have a coherent conversation. He fumbled for his phone, but as he furiously texted, he rambled on. “He’s going to be so excited. And he’ll love you. God, this is perfect. This is so fucking perfect.”

**To: Wade Wilson, 1:15 PM**  
_I think I have someone_

Peter quickly put his phone away before turning to Fiona again, who was patiently standing beside the father-to-be. The cellular device immediately buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. “When do you think you can escape from the Tower? I’ll make dinner and you can meet Wade. Also, by ‘make dinner,’ I obviously mean order takeout. Just so we’re clear and there aren’t any expectations.”

“The boss has date nights with Miss Potts on Fridays, so I usually leave here around eight,” Fiona suggested, bemused but still professional. Peter’s mind reeled at the thought of Tony’s busy calendar, creating new elements and fighting off the government, interrupted by ‘Date Night’ every Friday. Despite a deep desire to laugh, he nodded. He’d make jokes about it later with Wade. 

“Friday works,” he agreed, pushing the button for the elevator. It swung open immediately, having never gone down after Peter had called it the first time.

“Great! I’m looking forward to meeting your hubby,” Fiona smirked before retreating back to Tony.

With that, Peter stepped into the elevator and pulled out his phone, eager to see what Wade had to say.

**From: Wade Wilson, 1:16 PM**  
_Is it another ex-girlfriend?_

**From: Wade Wilson, 1:16 PM** _  
You know, I bet if we asked really nicely, they’d look past the weirdness and let you borrow their uterus for 9 months_

**From: Wade Wilson, 1:16 PM**  
_They can’t reject Spider-Man_  
  
**From: Wade Wilson, 1:17 PM**  
_Twice_

Peter rolled his eyes. Friday was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a day in the life of Peter Parker. 
> 
> thx for reading & commenting & kudos! y'all are the bomb.com.


	5. twisted clan called family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright, I appreciate how careful you want to be. I do. But we have little time and exactly zero other options. All I’m asking is that you meet her. See for yourself.” 
> 
> Wade quickly grinned to reveal food-dotted teeth. “Well, of course I’ll meet her. I’d do anything for you, Bambi, don’t you know that?”

Peter was rarely caught off-guard by Wade’s running commentary anymore. 

It wasn’t that the mercenary had diluted his stream of consciousness by any means; more like Peter found himself understanding it. This fact made the superhero both worried for his sanity, but also shockingly happy. There was something calm in knowing that he and his husband could be in sync.

Yet nothing could have prepared Peter for the first thought Wade had upon hearing of Fiona’s kind and generous offer.

“She wants our Spider-Baby for her own fucked up agenda,” he quickly retorted, arms crossed. “Ten bucks says she’s building some super-baby army to bring all you heroes down. It’s honestly the perfect plan. I mean, who would fight and potentially harm their own baby?”

Peter was actually at a loss for words.

“Oh, that’s a great idea! White box says maybe we should follow her one day. See if she heads to some warehouse filled with little kids—“

“You _cannot_ be serious right now,” the young hero said, because he honestly couldn’t tell. When Wade didn’t laugh or crack another joke, Peter’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, you are.”

“Oh, because that would be impossible – totally impossible in a place where aliens appear from a hole in the sky and one of your worst enemies was a giant fucking lizard,” Wade scoffed beside him at their kitchen table. His tone had a sarcastic, humorous edge, but the anti-hero was ignoring the plate of steaming hot stir-fry in front of him. Clearly, Wade was serious. It made Peter think for a brief moment – maybe his husband had a point.

Then he shook his head, attempting to reel himself back to reality. “Wade, she’s been Tony’s assistant for years. I don’t think she’d be able to get away with such an, uh, _intense_ operation.”

“Oh, fuck that goateed money bag. He’s too busy boning Gwyneth Paltrow to care about how his assistant spends her free time,” he shot back.

A large part of Peter wanted to pause and question: Gwyneth Paltrow? A smaller part wanted to laugh at the insult ‘goateed money bag.’ But despite this inner battle, he knew there were bigger things to be discussed, so Peter just moved on. “Well, it’s not like Iron Man would hire just anyone to be in charge of every detail of his life. He obviously had JARVIS look into her. He probably has more information on her than she has on herself." 

“You know, identity theft is really not that hard. I managed to fool the U.S. government into thinking I was a citizen so I could join the army, once upon a time,” Wade stated casually.

“What?” Peter was stunned with this anecdote.

“Huh?” His spouse quickly parroted, as if he just understood what had passed between chapped lips, and desperately wanted to take it back.

A long pause passed between the two. Peter stared at the mercenary, attempting to gather whether it was true or false, but Wade just sat there, trying to look as innocent as possible. Peter knew his husband had been in the army, discharged for disorderly conduct, but that was as far as his knowledge on the topic went. It sometimes got hard to keep track of what stories were true and what stories were fabricated extensions of Wade’s running mental illnesses.

Again, Peter had to remind himself: bigger fish to fry. He made a mental note to come back to the topic, though, because that seemed like the sort of thing married couples should definitely know about each other. Then he let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay, so say, in some world, Tony has failed on all fronts to hire a great, trustworthy assistant. Still, her supposed evil plan wouldn’t be so lucrative. It’s not like superheroes are busting out children left and right.”

Wade shrugged, picking up his fork now to shovel in his forgotten dinner. “Hawkeye has enough children to take down the Avengers, at the very least.”

Peter blinked. “Clint doesn’t have any children.”

The mercenary raised his brow expectedly at Peter, as if to say, _or does he?_

This only chipped away further at Peter’s dwindling patience. He started on his cold meal without much of a retort. “Okay, you’ve officially lost me.”

“Look,” Wade said then with a mouth full of noodles and a soft shrug. His tone changed into something more sympathetic. “I’m just saying we should be careful. I mean, here’s some random-ass chick, ready to live through nine months of hell, and for what?”

“Money? Friendship? The experience? You know, some people don’t see it as some kind of hell. Some people actually think pregnancy and birth are beautiful, you know,” Peter tried, hunched over his plate as he waved around his fork for emphasis.

“Yeah, but those are stupid people who haven’t been pregnant.”

“You say that as if _you_ have been pregnant,” Peter sniggered as he stabbed at a piece of chicken. Wade smirked, and muttered something about fanfictions. The tired student wasn’t so amused though, and didn’t feel like arguing anymore. His doe eyes looked up from his still-full plate. “Alright, I appreciate how careful you want to be. I do. But we have little time and exactly zero other options. All I’m asking is that you meet her. See for yourself.”

Wade quickly grinned to reveal food-dotted teeth. “Well, of course I’ll meet her. I’d do anything for you, Bambi, don’t you know that?”

Peter wanted to turn away in disgust at his husband’s poor table manners and the terrible nickname he couldn’t seem to escape, but somehow, the sentiment shone through. He smiled as he reached over to hold Wade’s free hand. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Wade ran a scarred thumb gently over Peter’s knuckles, and the young hero’s heart swelled at the simple but loaded gesture. It was nice.

Then a tug came and Peter found himself hip checking the kitchen table. He managed to successfully knock over a glass of water as he stumbled out of his chair towards the anti-hero.

“Wade!” he cried out, attempting to balance himself, but the mercenary’s lips on his muffled his shock as he crashed into the larger man’s seated body. Peter hated that this had quickly become Wade’s favorite way of playfully getting what he wanted – but not enough to really fight against it.

He _was_ tempted to at least whine about the eventual bruise that would appear on his hip come morning, but roaming hands shut Peter up quickly. Safe to say, their stir-fry dinner was long forgotten.

* * *

When Peter had come home from work on Friday, he had his hands filled with Italian take-out and his head filled with a long to-do list.

All of which he forgot about when he opened the door to his apartment, only to be greeted by Wade in a maid’s outfit on top of his Deadpool suit.

“Welcome home, sweetie,” Wade cooed, hands on hips to show off the tulip shaped skirt.

Confused but not surprised, Peter asked, “What are you doing?”

“You said we needed to tidy up this morning,” was the reply, as if it had been a stupid question. When the brown haired boy didn’t respond, the mercenary shrugged. “Well, I’m ready to tidy up.”

“I don’t think a backless maid’s costume is necessary,” Peter said dryly, as he kicked the door shut and placed the food on the counter. “But whatever gets you pumped to vacuum.”

“Vacuuming isn’t sexy, though. Window-washing; now that’s what this outfit was made for,” the merc smirked, but only received a glare tossed over Peter's shoulder in return. “Anyway, I don’t even think we need to vacuum. This place is spotless!”

That got the younger spouse's attention. Peter glanced at Wade as if the older man had officially lost his dice. The outfit didn’t faze the photographer, having seen it with little underneath for an earlier Valentine’s Day. But if Wade honestly thought the crumbs all along the floor and wrappers on every surface could be considered _clean_ , then yes, the Merc with a Mouth was as crazy as people thought. 

“I want to make a good impression, alright? So c’mon, we don’t have much time,” Peter huffed as he began picking up his heavy textbooks and laptop from the kitchen table. 

Wade growled but obliged. He was struggling with getting the plug into the outlet behind the couch when he scoffed, “I just feel like she has a right to know what kind of people we are. We’re the kind of people who leave take-out around for days. That may be useful knowledge to her. I mean, I’m all for lying, Petey, but I know you’re typically not. What would Daddy America say?" 

Peter ignored the disturbing reference to his fellow Avenger.

“You’re the one who leaves old take-out everywhere. I just refuse to clean up messes that aren’t _mine_. Plus, it’s not lying,” he said hesitantly as he set plates on placemats. His phone buzzed in his back pocket as he looked to his spouse. “It’s just… being a good host.”

Wade had a snarky retort on the tip of his tongue, his husband could tell, but it was drowned out when the plug finally went into the outlet and the vacuum roared to life.

Peter grinned, then glanced down at the illuminated screen in his hand.

 **From: Fiona Fevers, 6:07 PM**  
_I think Tony is in the doghouse. He’s currently on a private jet to Paris with Miss Potts. Talk about one hell of a date night. Guess I’ll see you soon!_

* * *

On one hand, Peter wanted to kill his immortal husband for being particularly difficult. But on the other, he felt absolute relief - giddy, even. Finally, Wade was being unreasonable about something to do with their future child. It had previously worried the younger man that the mercenary, who typically felt and said too much, was always so calm and collected in regards to their life-altering decision. This seemed more normal.

Unfortunately, Wade’s return to the norm was making for a very tension-filled meal.

With his mask half-on at the table, it was still somehow clear he was glaring at the redhead across the table, all while occasionally muttering to himself. Peter knew he was responding to the voices in his head, but it must have seemed odd to the assistant.

In (probably delusional) hopes to carry on their dinner, though, Peter sighed over his plate of shrimp scampi. “So, Fiona—“

Wade quickly interjected. “If that’s your real name.”

“Oh, my God.” With that, Peter's dark mop of hair hung dangerously close to the pasta on his plate.

Fiona smirked.

“She could be working for HYDRA. Or Cable. Or one of your so-called super villain enemies,” Wade replied coolly, as if he was onto something. Peter was momentarily miffed at the slight insult to his foes, as Wade always denounced them for laughs. But he said nothing. Meanwhile, his husband sat up in epiphany. “Or she could be a mercenary! What a fucking plot twist that would be. A mercenary set out to kill another mercenary, like a fucked up version of _Mr. And Mrs. Smith_. Well, look here, Angelina Jolie. I am happily married and am not going to leave webhead here like Pitt did to Aniston, alright? And now that I know your little plan, I’m way ahead of you. Nice try, darling.”

“I’m not a mercenary, but I’m honored you’d think so,” she said sweetly. 

Wade sneered. “Just what a mercenary would say.”

This elicited a groan from the brown-haired boy.

The night was a disaster. Not only had Fiona appeared at the unlocked door of their apartment far before Peter would have dubbed the place sanitary, Wade had also still been in costume. And now the merc, albeit thankfully in a sweater and jeans, was tossing hostile accusations around, seemingly uncaring that their guest of honor had offered to do them the favor of a century. Truthfully, Peter didn’t think he could be any more mortified. He’d invited a sweet coworker to his residence, only to have her verbally dismantled.

The night was shaping up to be even more embarrassing than the time Wade had taken a picture of Peter in his Captain America boxer-briefs, only to send it to Captain fucking America himself via Spider-Man’s phone.

“You know what? Let’s just forget it. This was a bad idea.” The young hero was up and collecting half-full plates before he could finish his train of thought. He didn’t even look up at his dinner guest or his husband; he just wanted the night to be over so that he could fall into his bed and forget – forget about the night, forget about his husband’s awful attitude, forget about how he’d thought they could ever have a normal lifestyle and a baby at all. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, Fiona. Thank you for the offer, but clearly –“

Her hand shot out before Peter could take away her meal, touching his wrist and stopping him in his tracks. She looked up at him quizzically. “What are you talking about? I expected to get hazed a little bit. If anything, this has been underwhelming.”

Both Peter and Wade seemed surprised as they asked in unison, “You did?”

She laughed and easily tossed long red locks of hair out of her green eyes. “Well, of course. I may not be a paranoid super-spy or hero myself, but I’ve worked with enough of them to know how they think for the most part. I guess what I’m saying is that I get it. I’m a stranger to Mr. Wilson, and considering it’s his future child’s safety on the line, it’s understandable that he’d want all bases covered.”

Peter’s eyes were now boring into Wade testily, who simply responded in a small voice, “You can, uh... call me Wade.”

Fiona grinned a smile that marked smug success. “Well then, Wade, go on. Ask me anything. You have the right and I’m ready to answer.” 

Peter hadn’t seen the night unfolding in this way. Maybe it was because he always seemed to underestimate the assistant currently sitting at his kitchen table. Fiona was professional and good at her job, but Peter didn’t know what being Tony Stark’s assistant entailed. Clearly it took more than he could imagine, what with being around suspicious parties like Natasha Romanoff on a day-to-day basis. That skill set made her far more prepared for Wade Wilson that he thought she'd be.

As he slowly sat back down in his seat, though, Peter helplessly watched the sly grin appear on the merc's face.

“Have you ever worked for a super villain before?” he immediately asked, obviously pre-prepared for the game of twenty questions.

Fiona didn't miss a beat though. “My resume includes being a barista on my college campus once upon a time, interning at the White House under various politicians, and now working for Tony Stark. So, in a way, I guess the answer depends on your views,” she replied easily, then sat back in her chair with a knowing smile on her face – of what, Peter wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t help but stare in awe.

“Would you ever assemble a super-baby army and enlist our future child?”

Here, the grad student had to stop himself from slamming in his forehead into the palm of his hand.

“Interesting concept. That actually seems like a pretty full-proof plan. I mean, what self-sacrificing hero would fight their own baby?” Wade glanced Peter’s way with an expression that screamed: _see?_ But Fiona simply went on, ignoring the exchange. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m sadistic enough to physically go through nine months of pregnancy simply to gain a vessel of war.” 

“I think we’ll leave that up to your psychiatric evaluations from Stark,” Wade responded, before another shit-eating grin appeared underneath his half-raised mask. “You should see my evaluations, though – the printed version would take up an entire forest’s worth of paper.”

“Impressive,” the woman stated, raising her eyebrows in delight.

Peter was both stunned and appalled, because it sounded like she actually meant it, too. The feeling of displeasure was more with himself though; honestly, what had the young hero become, choosing the company of people like Wade Wilson and Fiona Fevers happily? When had he given up his calm and mostly neurotypical social life? Peter made a mental note to ask Tony for his own evaluations. There was probably something wrong up there and he was ready to whole-heartedly blame the radioactive spider bite.

“So if you’re not in the baby-army game, then what’s your deal? I mean, c’mon. Why would a hot chick like you want to spend nine months in hell, just to ruin that bangin’ body, and give away the prize?”

Fiona blushed. 

Really, her cheeks turned a pink Peter had never seen on her before unless in her chosen lipstick shade. It was easily the most human moment he’d ever encountered with her, and Peter had been there when she received the call about her father’s death. She excused herself to the bathroom for a total of five minutes, and then returned with a steady grin, though matched with red-rimmed eyes.

But now she was blushing before two strange men, her hand nervously going up to the curled ends of her long hair. And Peter had to wonder: had Wade’s crude comment really had that kind of effect on her? Part of him wanted to lean over and touch her shoulder in mutual misery. But when she started talking, the Parker boy realized only he could ever be smitten with Wade’s mouth.

He’d never admit it, but he felt relief spread through his body.

“I don’t think my answer will be all that satisfactory, I’m afraid,” she laughed and it came out broken and awkward. She was blushing at her vulnerability. “I gave a shortened version to Peter, but honestly, my lifestyle with Mr. Stark is unpredictable at best. And I love it, I do. But… this wasn’t always the plan, you know?”

She took a deep, shaky breath. Peter was expecting Wade to interrupt, because normally, the mercenary would have a loaded barrel of vocal ammo by now. But silence reigned on until Fiona rightfully broke it again.

“When I was an intern at the white house, I had an affair with a politician. Not my proudest hour, but I got pregnant, and truth be told, I was excited. I had always wanted children and somehow, in the rush of my career, I had lost any real chance at a healthy relationship. But he was married. And he didn’t want to leave a biological trail. I got an abortion, and it was probably the best option at the time. But… I was excited. I was excited for the morning sickness and the swollen feet and the weird cravings. I told myself I’d get that experience eventually, but I’m too realistic to go on believing that now. Under Stark, there’s no time for dating. And there’s definitely no time for a child. So if pregnancy is the closest I’ll get to that excitement from years ago, then that’s what I want. I want to help you both, because really, it’s just a way to help me gain closure.”

She shrugged then, as if her story had been nothing but a chip off her shoulder. The way her eyes were shining told Peter it was more than that, though. He couldn’t help it – he reached over and took her small hand in his. 

She smiled at him just as Wade sighed.

“Well, there it is!” When Peter’s eyes narrowed Wade’s way, the Merc with the Mouth just ignored him, grinning on. “The selfish motive tied to a tragic back story! It’s perfect. It shows that you have something to gain out of this, that isn’t a super-baby army. It tugs on the heartstrings. And it makes you trustworthy. Congratulations.” 

“Wade –“ Peter scoffed, because _God_ , even if he didn’t believe her, he could have waited for the woman to leave before ragging on her. But his husband cut him off. 

“No, really. Congratulations; you won me over. I mean, I’m obviously going to get Petey here to get Stark to send over your file and fact-check the living hell out of you. But hey, if it all clears, I have to say: I like a character with a few flaws. You’d make a great surrogate for this little, twisted clan we call a family.”

Family – the word made Peter’s stomach tighten. Did this mean the dinner hadn’t been a complete failure? His wide eyes looked over to Fiona. Her eyes were still shining.

“I’m honored,” she stated, smiling wide at the mercenary.

Peter felt like his heart was about to implode. It was months of work and self-doubt, but there it was, sitting before him in the form of a poised assistant and a mouthy mercenary he adored; the start of the family he always wanted.

It was a release. He hadn’t thought they’d get this far. Every step through the process was taken with a heavy weight of apprehension attached. Peter didn’t realize before, but it dawned on him now, that because if his hesitance, because he was afraid it wouldn’t go through, he had stopped himself from imagining it.

Sure, he had mouthed the words ‘our child.’ Yes, he had discussed names. It was true that he had pragmatically thought of every change needed to give a child a healthy and safe home. But Peter hadn’t allowed himself the simple pleasure of daydreaming of the little child that would be his and Wade’s. He hadn’t thought of the tiny hands and feet that he would undoubtedly wrap in knitted socks and baby mittens from Aunt May. He hadn’t fantasized about coming home from work to see Wade on the couch, with the infant asleep on his broad chest. He hadn’t envisioned his child – brown hair, big round eyes, pink lips wet with saliva, toothlessly grinning up at Peter Parker, the new father.

It hit him like a ton of bricks and instinctively, his hand gripped at Wade’s thigh underneath the table, forgetting about his frustration with his significant other. The anti-hero responded by quickly taking the hand in his and holding on tight. It made Peter’s eyes well up – he knew he hadn’t been the one thinking up the cozy life with their baby.

“One last question, though,” Wade’s voice came in eventually, unable to stay silent for too long. “And this is the deal breaker.” 

The young hero’s grasp loosened underneath the table as Fiona, in turn, quirked an eyebrow. Her look said it all: _hit me._

“Backstreet Boys or N*SYNC?”

It was unfair. Peter knew the answer, but that was only because he had failed this same test years prior on a mission in upstate New York, back when Wade was simply the obnoxious and infamous Deadpool to him. Creeping through the hallways of a supposedly abandoned drug warehouse, he’d whispered the question to Spider-Man, along with the threat: _‘If you get this wrong, I’ll never be able to look at that sweet ass the same way again.’_

Clearly Wade had a flair for the dramatics. Peter protested and said ‘neither,’ but when pushed to finally pick, the groan that fell from Wade’s lips upon hearing _‘Backstreet Boys’_ was loud enough to startle a guard down the hall and almost cost them their mission. 

Still, after one of Wade’s legs had been shot at a number of times and he was no longer to walk on it, from the ground, he sighed: ‘ _Oh, Spidey. I forgive your ‘90’s boy band ignorance. I can’t hold a grudge against a specimen with an ass like that.’_

Obviously, it wasn’t so serious.

But Peter was still deeply impressed when Fiona scoffed. “Are you honestly comparing the two? N*SYNC had the best pop hits, but Backstreet Boys really got down the boy band ballad. They’re both good in their respective ways.”

It was settled then. Peter almost wondered if Wade still wanted Fiona’s exhaustive file from Stark after her response to the question. 

The merc grinned a toothy grin that made his scarred lips stretch and turn white. He glanced at his husband. “I like her.”

And Peter beamed back. “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fiona will now only be casually mentioned throughout the story; it will go back to focusing on Peter, Wade, and the baby. 
> 
> also lol @ this chapter being 3x longer than others. consider it my apology for not posting for a while; finals are killing me.
> 
> and as always, thank you for the kudos, comments & bookmarks. y'all are the best!


	6. lovers' quarrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second thing Peter did back home. After grabbing the 1,001 Baby Names book off the shelf where it had been gathering dust for months in the long process, he dropped it on Wade’s lap.
> 
> The older man groaned as he lurched forward and clasped his hands against his now-aching groin. “Watch the goods, sweetheart.”
> 
> Peter ignored the cry of pain. Instead, he plopped down on the couch beside his husband and excitedly stated, “We need a name for our son.”

After hearing the sex of the successfully attached embryo, the first thing Peter did was call his Aunt May. She deserved to know immediately that she was going to be the proud great-aunt of a little boy. Despite being in the middle of her rotations at the hospital, she took the expected call and squealed in joy.

The second thing Peter did back home. After grabbing the _1,001 Baby Names_ book off the shelf where it had been gathering dust for months in the long process, he dropped it on Wade’s lap.

The older man groaned as he lurched forward and clasped his hands against his now-aching groin. “Watch the goods, sweetheart.”

Peter ignored the cry of pain. Instead, he plopped down on the couch beside his husband and excitedly stated, “We need a name for our son.”

A grin crossed scarred white lips. Wade suddenly moved the book off his lap, bouncing back from the crotch-shot rather quickly, but without surprise. His bigger body inched closer to Peter while a rough hand moved up the younger’s bare forearm teasingly. “Say that again.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “Say what?”

“Our son. Say anything about the fact that we’re having a son together.” Wade’s lips were now all over the soft skin of the young hero’s neck. He peppered kisses from Peter’s collarbone to his ear. His voice was dripping with desire. “I like hearing you say it.”

There was an undeniable heat rising in Peter’s cheeks and to other places of his body. He, too, was feeling that odd amount of lust that building a family brought on; it was made from a concoction of excitement and love. And it didn’t help that the man Peter was doing the building with, was now nipping at the nape of his neck. He gasped and let his arms wrap around Wade’s torso, tingling under his husband’s touch.

“We’re having a son together,” Peter repeated, fingers easily slipping under the cotton of his husband’s shirt, dancing over scar tissue and muscle. He chuckled when Wade let out an exaggerated groan. “He’ll probably be as fussy as you are.”

Wade’s lips were on Peter’s immediately. It was heated and sloppy from pent up emotion. Both men had been waiting to get back to their apartment to celebrate in this way from the moment the announcement had left the doctor’s lips. Their hands eagerly roamed each other’s bodies, grabbing and groping anything and everything they came in contact with.

When Wade pulled back, broad chest heaving for air, his blue eyes scanned over Peter’s flushed face. He had a smirk reigning over his chapped lips as per usual. “You know, I just realized he’s going to have your pretty-boy hair.”

“Wha – I don’t have pretty-boy hair!” Peter scoffed, equally breathless. A hand defensively shot up to his wild, long brown locks that were now sticking in all directions, thanks to Wade. The hero did need a cut, though; whenever he had pulled his mask off in the last weeks, the matted hair would fall in his eyes.

“Mmm, sure you don’t. It’s not a bad thing. _I’m_ definitely not complaining. Just means our son is going to be a floppy-haired heart-breaker,” Wade grumbled before going in for another kiss.

Peter wanted to let Wade’s tongue slip into his mouth, wanted to continue the heated make out session that would result in a finished flurry in the bedroom. But he couldn’t help it – he smiled against the kiss and continued the conversation instead. “God, you’re going to teach him to be a pain in the ass just like you, aren’t you?”

Thankfully Wade, unlike Peter, was good at multi-tasking. His fingers slipped down to the young hero’s leather belt, drawing shapes with his index finger near the hem of his jeans. It made Peter shudder under the light touch, but still, he listened to his husband’s smug response, mind in a haze. “I think you mean how to be a smart-mouthed badass, but yes. Definitely.” 

“Nope, totally not what I meant,” Peter chuckled. 

And it went on from there.

With Peter’s belt tossed quickly to the scuffed, hardwood floor, they discussed their son’s eventual love of Mexican food, because Peter was sure when he was at work, Wade would always take to ordering from his favorite place in town. 

Wade’s shirt was discarded as the idea that their son would have Peter’s affinity for science was brought to the table, because Wade knew the young hero would strictly enforce homework. He imagined Peter sitting down in the dark hours back home, dedicating his little free time to helping their son on physics problems that would look like gibberish to the mercenary. It made Wade visceral; he pinned Peter’s arms above his head and left a mark just underneath the young student’s ear. 

When the Peter had his pants around his ankles, it was imagined that their unborn son would be well versed in 80’s and 90’s pop hits, all thanks to the older father’s large collection.

Wade was sliding his own jeans down when he pointed out that their boy would be knowledgeable in most pop culture from both dads.

They continued to play the game until most clothing was lost within in the mess of the apartment, until they were struggling to get thoughts out between groans, until their appetites took over and all imagination was lost in favor of physicality.

Somewhere underneath Peter’s sweater, _1,001 Baby Names_ lied, forgotten.

When they were finished, Wade grinned against the soft skin of Peter’s back. “We’re having a son together.”

* * *

If strong-armed, Peter would admit: sometimes, having a proficient assassin aboard on his patrols was helpful. On one hand, he wasn’t a fan of the killing, and strictly forbade it on his turf. But even so, Wade had a skill set that Peter grudgingly admired. Unfortunately, for every perk that came with the mouthy mercenary on his side, there was a fault.

“Are they multiplying? I think they’re multiplying,” Wade groaned as more bodies cladded in dark clothing came charging at the red-suited men.

“Well, maybe we shouldn’t have come to their base without a plan,” Peter replied as he webbed the barrel of his nearest attacker’s gun and threw it far behind them. There was a hint of bitterness in his tone.

And that was where fighting alongside Wade was more troublesome than favorable; sometimes the immortal man didn’t think through his actions beforehand. He could survive anything, so most times he just acted upon impulse. 

Like earlier in the night, when he and Peter had stumbled across a suspicious trade in Queens. Instead of scoping the criminals post-exchange, Wade had taken Peter’s hand and shot in the direction where one of the men’s dark SUV was heading, without so much as a warning. They had argued the entire way to the warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen, until Peter finally regained control of his shooter and had them dropped, quite literally, at the feet of a large army of black-cladded men.

“Right, so this is _my_ fault,” Wade huffed as he unsheathed a katana, elbowed his current enemy behind him, and took the blade to the backs of the man’s knees. He cried out in pain and fell to the ground, now unable to move, and losing a frightening amount of blood.

Meanwhile, the man Peter had unarmed came charging at him. With his hands struggling against Spider-Man’s throat, he grinned. “Am I in the middle of a lovers' quarrel?”

Lithe Peter didn’t allow the chokehold for long, though. A jump and a kick of his legs to the man’s gut loosened the grip his assailant had and sent him soaring through the air. His back eventually hit a parked SUV and he slumped down against it, unconscious.

“I know he was making a joke, but considering we’re married, it’s actually a valid question,” Wade pointed out, as he, too, kicked a man down, then slammed his head against the concrete – just hard enough to make him knock out. “Am I in the doghouse?”

Peter’s breaths were deep and jagged, but rolled his eyes under his mask. “Not the time or place for this, Deadpool.”

The bodies were quickly piling at the suited men’s feet. The gang of criminals was surely strong and loaded with ammo, but they were still no match against Deadpool’s incomparable fighting skills and Spider-Man’s heavy intuition. They dropped like flies as the couple managed to take two down at a time.

Eventually, what felt like a running stream of guards quickly dwindled, and the pair finally found themselves within the walls of the empty warehouse. Peter assessed that by the lack of cartel around, the area was likely a meeting ground for planning – of what, the question remained.

It was Wade who filled in the gaps: they were likely dealing with robbers, considering the man back in Queens had had a cliché briefcase of money to offer, and there was an overall lack of product otherwise. The exchange had probably been for firearms.

As they continued to creep through the large building, unsure of any lingering presences, Wade’s constant need for discussion reared. “Hey, you think Daredevil is going to be mad that we’re on his base?”

Peter grimaced under his mask; he hadn’t even thought of the other red-suited superhero. Matt would surely hear about the take down in Hell’s Kitchen come morning and the young student would likely get a heated call from the lawyer. Peter sighed, though, attempting to shrug it off. “Probably, but I’m just going to blame you. He expects this shit from you.”

They continued to move, eyes searching high and low for any bodies. Meanwhile, Wade scoffed. “Guess that answers my question. You _are_ mad! Aw, c’mon, baby boy – look, I have the perfect thing to make you happy with me again.”

“Seriously, man, not the time—“ 

“I thought of a name!” There was innocent excitement in Wade’s tone, but before Peter could cut him off, to again state that they could and would discuss their personal issues back at home, the anti-hero finished his thought.

“What about Ben? Like your uncle!”

It landed on Peter like a heavy weight. He’d hardly been expecting _that_. And here, of all places? He stopped to look at his husband, caught somewhere between an expression of surprise and a death glare underneath his mask. But Wade just looked down at Peter in pure confusion at the sudden halt.

And for good reason – it was a bad move to make. Once the suited men stopped, gunshots came from above at the steadied targets.

Wade shoved Peter behind him and managed to turn his back to the line of fire in one swift motion. He was hit two times in his right shoulder in the process, but they were pushed to safety, Peter and Wade out of view again before their hidden enemy could do any real damage.

“ _Motherfucker_ ,” Wade seethed. He was already healing, but the sting of heat and gunpowder was hard to ignore. They were now behind the wall of a narrow hallway, but from above, a series of footsteps could be heard rushing to find them.

Peter’s mind was swimming. And he was angry that his mind was elsewhere. He hadn’t been the one shot, but he certainly felt wounded. He was angry at the distraction, angry at his husband, angry at the situation they were now in. So he used that anger to pull himself together and locate the enemy. 

Shoving his wounded partner carelessly aside, he stepped out of the hallway just as his ringing spider-sense was almost too much to handle. There were only two men, but by their respective outfits, Peter knew one was the leader and the other, a trusted guard.

It didn’t take long for Spider-Man to disarm the guard, but it seemed Wade had finally healed enough, or gotten past the shock of being left behind, to join the fight. So the young hero let the mercenary take on the battle with the guard while he moved on to head of the operation. He had webbing over the man’s mouth, torso, and ankles before the guard’s heavy, unconscious body eventually dropped at Wade’s feet.

In the nearby distance, police sirens could be heard; a sound that, even after joining the Avengers, Peter hated. 

Wade obviously had some sort of commentary on the tip of his tongue, but his husband had a red gloved-hand up before it fell from chapped lips. “No. Don’t talk. Don’t say a word until we’re home. Understood?”

It was asking a lot of the Merc With a Mouth, but judging by the harsh edge in Peter’s tone, Wade didn’t want to take any chances. He nodded.

A moment after, they were swinging through the air silently (at least, as silently as Wade could be, muttering softly to his boxes), leaving behind the mess of bruised up criminals to state authorities. 

* * *

Peter remained silent as he stepped through their apartment from the fire escape. He pulled his mask off immediately and ambled towards the bedroom without so much of a glance towards the mercenary. But Wade still followed.

“Why do I feel like I’m sleeping on the couch tonight?” he asked as they entered the dark room.

Peter’s aching body dropped onto the bed. He didn't bother turning on the light, but his eyes quickly adjusted to the orange hue coming from the street lamps and generally bright city right outside. His brown eyes remained far from his husband as he took to peeling off his gloves and boots. The thing was, Peter was struggling with the emotions bubbling inside him, and though he wanted to answer Wade’s question, he didn’t really know how. So he stayed quiet.

But that only made the merc try harder. “The silent treatment? C’mon, that shit is the worst. I hate the silent treatment, Petey. You know this.”

Unable to find the right words, the younger man was content with staying cold, but when he looked up from his new pile of clothing and shoes on the floor, he found himself gazing into Wade’s concerned baby blues. He had taken a knee before Peter, mask off, and was frowning deeply.

“Talk to me. What did I do?”

Peter huffed then, giving in. He didn’t have everything thought out, and while Peter didn’t work well under emotional pressure, if Wade was going to force him to talk, he’d talk. “How many times have I told you to keep our personal lives out of the field?” 

Wade’s eyes lit up at the sound of his husband’s gruff voice, obviously thankful to be acknowledged. But quickly, his brow furrowed at the question. “Plenty, but do I ever follow the rules?”

Peter knew that would be the answer. It was the reason why he hadn’t wanted to talk at all; he didn’t really have a great dialogue planned. He didn’t appreciate being tied up like this. So he rolled his eyes instead of verbally responding, back to square one. Pushing himself off the bed, he moved around Wade’s crouching body and started towards the bathroom as he peeled the remaining parts of his suit off.

Of course Wade wouldn’t let it go so easily. He growled from his spot in the bedroom, clearly frustrated to have taken steps backwards in their progress.

“I can’t help the situation if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, Peter.” It was rare that Wade’s deep voice wasn’t laced with humor, but the few times he turned serious and used Peter’s full name, the brown-haired student’s heart skipped a beat. It was no different now.

Tossing his suit towards the hamper and tragically missing, Peter knew Wade was right. He knew he had to confront the situation at hand, knew he was being unfair. But it didn’t make it any less hard. It took him a moment as he padded to the bathroom, but he eventually gathered his thoughts, gripping the edges of the porcelain sink with his head hung down.

When he looked back up, Wade was leaning against the doorframe patiently.

“You caught me off-guard and it cost you two bullets to the shoulder. What should have been a simple in-and-out mission could have turned for the worst. That’s not okay, Wade,” Peter explained, his throat tight.

His words were true, but there was a gap in his explanation. To distract himself, maybe to give himself some kind of clarity, or even drown out Wade’s words, he turned on the sink and splashed his face with cold water. But it did nothing except clean off a layer of grime that had built under the fabric of his mask.

Wade’s voice hovered over the running water. He, for once, wouldn’t be distracted and immediately jumped at the weak link in his husband’s supposed confession. “Do you want to talk about what caught you off-guard?”

The younger boy’s jaw clenched as he shut off the spout. Grabbing a towel, though, he attempted to brush it off with a defensive scoff. “Obviously you dragging our personal shit onto the battlefield.”

But Peter knew what was coming. It couldn’t be ignored, no matter how much he tried to dodge it. Wade's brow quirked and Peter almost hated how gentle his husband’s tone was when he pointed out, “You’ve never been distracted by that before.” 

The younger boy went silent again, now glaring. His arms crossed over his naked chest. 

But Wade just went on, still softly. “Did it… have something to do with your uncle?”

It was like a gut reaction. At that, Peter shoved Wade backwards. The larger man swayed only slightly, but he stepped backwards into the bedroom to let Peter pass by on his way to the bed. Only his eyes widened at his husband’s anger.

“Yeah, it might’ve! It’s not exactly a great fucking headspace to be in when I’m in the middle of a fight,” the smaller man sneered. The larger man just put his hands up in defense.

“Well, I obviously didn’t bring it up to mess with you. I thought I was being helpful. We’ve been struggling with names for _days_ now.” Wade’s face turned sheepish under heavy scar tissue. “I just thought you’d like it, since it’s a family name and all.”

Peter was mad. It was clear by the pink that appeared in his cheeks and spread down his neck. He was flushed in fury. But he also knew he was misdirecting that anger at his husband and it made him feel guilty almost immediately – especially when Wade always had good intentions.

It was too much. The anger, the guilt, and the topic at hand; the young hero wasn’t able to process it all. He didn’t realize his tear-streaked face was in his hands until he felt Wade’s hand rubbing up and down his spine. And it only made Peter’s heart tighten when he heard soft apologies fall from his spouse’s lips, comfortingly and repeatedly. “I’m sorry, Petey. Really, I am. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

They stayed like that for what felt like ages, until the tears dried, until Peter’s breathing evened out, until he finally plucked up the courage to sigh. “I’m not mad at you, I’m just – I mean, he’s not going to be here. I mean, I guess I just realized… he’s not going to meet our son.” 

Wade understood. Nodding slowly, he continued to rub tender circles in his husband’s soft skin. “No. But that doesn’t mean our son isn’t going to know about him.” 

It was Peter’s turn to nod. But then Wade got excited, and he grabbed his husband’s hands and smiled when their eyes met. “Which is why I think we should name him after the great Uncle Ben. It really immortalizes the man who deserved eternal life.”

It took him a moment, but eventually Peter’s voice cracked under the weight, as he tested it on his tongue. “Benjamin.”

“Yeah, little Benji Parker!” Wade’s eyes had been shining with enthusiasm. But then his brow furrowed and suddenly, passion was replaced with perplexity. “Or, uh, Ben Wilson. Parker-Wilson? Wilson-Parker?” 

They hadn’t discussed last names extensively in the past. In a playful argument, it seemed neither man was happy taking the place after the dash; Wade wanted Wilson-Parker while Peter advocated for Parker-Wilson. Afterwards, it was quietly agreed that they would remain Peter Parker and Wade Wilson, even as a married duo; they had never been conventional anyway. But with the addition to their family, it seemed the unification of surnames was necessary.

Finally, Peter smiled a sleepy smile. He felt much lighter all at once and he wasn’t sure why, but he was happy the night was coming to a close in this way. With their hands still intertwined, the exhausted hero leaned back against the pillows on their bed, tugging Wade as he did so. The mercenary gladly followed, lying beside his partner, though still fully suited. His arm instinctively wrapped around Peter’s shoulders, and they lied in a moment of peaceful silence.

In the darkness and under the warmth of the larger body beside him, Peter was happy to give up their petty argument from the past. He ceded with that soft smile on his face. “You know what? I like Wilson-Parker.”

Wade didn’t bother masking the surprise on his face. It quickly turned into beaming happiness, anyway. "Really?"

“Benjamin Wilson-Parker.” Peter’s voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled closer to his husband. He yawned and gave a small nod. “Yeah, that’s good. That's really good."

The young hero fell asleep soon after, to the excitement of his husband's murmured conversation with the voices in his head, and his fingers running through Peter's wild, pretty-boy hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually kind of drops in Team Red + some light angst*
> 
> also, I apologize for the delay/any typos/bad writing in general. I think I've hit a post-finals writer's block but I'm just going to push through it via this fic. hopefully it's gone by the next chapter!
> 
> P.S. thank you, thank you, thank you for all the nice comments and the kudos and the bookmarks. like, seriously. it's the only reason why I keep updating. I typically post rly late at night when there's not a lot of traffic and I haven't posted anything about this fic anywhere else and I know it's a relatively small amount, but this fic has a some attention and it's so heart-warming to me. y'all are the best of the best! xo


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